Drabbles, Rambles, and Brainworms
by Kagirinai-Eternal
Summary: Just a collection of little bits of brain fluff that pop into my head but aren't really substantial enough to post as stand-alone.
1. Connected

Baby Tooth was different. She wasn't like her sisters, identical to each other, yet distinctly unique. She knew that they would titter behind her back about her mismatched eyes. She knew they would make open fun of her beauty mark, making shows of posing and pouting out their lips like that one movie star. And she knew that, above all, they would wonder why. Why was she so special? What made her deserve to stand out?

Baby Tooth didn't wonder. Baby Tooth _knew._

She knew that she wasn't just an offshoot of her re-mother. She remembered things that she had never experienced. She remembered running through grass and trees. She remembered laughing and speaking in a voice that could be understood. She remembered a warm, smiling face that was always there, always watching out for her. She remembered that same face disappearing and feeling a crushing sadness. She remembered growing up, moving on but never forgetting. She remembered growing old. She remembered sinking into the snow's warm embrace, falling asleep and waking up to large amethyst eyes hovering over her kindly.

That was her first memory of this new life. At first, she had been scared. The face had been so big, but soon she realized that she was just very small. Tooth had been very kind, smoothing her little feathers and primping her unused wings with gentle fingers, telling her how excited she was to finally meet her chosen one. For that was how she was created. The Tooth Fairy queen had chosen her when she was still human and fragile, claiming her spirit once her mortal life was done. Baby Tooth knew that her re-mother was more aware of the flow of destiny than she let on; she had picked her for a reason.

Baby Tooth knew her feathery crown was yellow instead of green because she was not a cluster of dispelled feathers given a life of their own. She knew that the little dark mole that sat under her right eye was a remnant of who she had been. And she knew that her eyes didn't match because one showed how she belonged to her queen and the other proved that she belonged to someone else just as much. Someone she had been separated from for far too long. Someone whose name she would whisper to sleeping children when she went out to gather teeth, planting the seeds of belief. Someone she loved dearly, though not the way her sisters did.

"Hey, Baby Tooth! You ready to go?"

Baby Tooth felt her heart rise in happiness at the voice. She zipped through the cloud of her sisters, ignoring their infatuated chatter and the occasional protest of "Why her? Why does he like _her_ best?" She just smiled as she settled into her spot in the folds of the frosted blue hood. She knew why, even if Jack and her sisters didn't. She knew there was an unbreakable bond that would connect them forever.

"I love you, Jack," she chittered, wrapping her arms around the side of his cold neck as he launched them into the sky, masking the hug by grabbing onto his floppy hair for balance. But in her heart, she knew he wasn't fooled. In her heart, Baby Tooth knew that her brother loved her too.

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_**A/N: It's a bit sloppy, but there you have it. A Kagirinai ramble about Baby-Tooth-is-really-Jack's-sister. Enjoy.**_


	2. Not My Proudest Moment

North hummed along with the Christmas music pouring out of recently installed speakers while Jack fiddled with the stereo dials, chasing off the last bits of static. The big man could somewhat understand the mechanical set up of the stereo, but he was baffled at how Jack had managed to pick up an actual radio station. Then again, if there was one thing North knew without a doubt, it was never to underestimate Jack Frost.

"This is very nice, Jack. Thank you." He meant it, too. North loved Christmas music, but seldom got to actually enjoy it. It warmed his heart when the boy turned and smiled at him before twisting the volume dial up as the music shifted seamlessly into a new song.

"Hey. I love this song!"

North tensed at the familiar melody, his jovial demeanor disappearing. "Turn it off."

Jack was too busy belting out the chorus to hear North's demand. "Grandma got run over by a re-Hey!" He glared as the other Guardian reached across him and turned off the radio. "What'd you do that for, North?"

"I do not like that song. Is bad song."

"What? Why?"

"Because it is."

"Oh, come _on_. It's just for fun. Everyone knows you would never _really_ run down an old lady. Maybe Pitch _dressed_ as an old lady, but not a real one." North turned away, suddenly engrossed in the block of ice he was chiseling at. Jack stood up and peered at him. "Right?"

He got no answer other than North shifting again, refusing to meet Jack's eyes.

"Oh my god! Are you saying youran over a _grandma_?!"

"It was long time ago! I had new team of reindeer! Reindeer is very difficult dialect, Jack Frost! They are stubborn animals, too; they do not listen." North's face was as red as his shirt, while Jack was paler than normal, staring at the older man with bugged eyes. "It was only concussion, but still…is not something I am proud of…"

The silence stretched for what seemed like ages. For all North knew, Christmas could have come and gone and come again. Finally, finally Jack broke it. He laughed, shocking North. Could the boy really be so cruel?

"You? _You_ hit a grandmother? With your _sleigh_? Oh, wait 'til I tell Bunny!"

Oh, no. Anything but that. "You would not dare…"

Of course he would. North lunged to grab Jack. He would stuff him in the toy sack until he agreed to keep silent. But he was too slow. A blast of cold air hit him as Jack leaped into the air, rocketing out a window, heading in the direction of the Warren. "Jack Frost! You are back on Naughty List!" the big Russian howled, collapsing onto his desk. Ever helpful, an elf waddled by and turned up the radio, filling the workshop with that fateful chorus line.

God how he hated that song.


	3. I Didn't Need to See That

_**I am an evil person. I apologize ahead of time for anybody that is forever scarred after reading this. And yes, **__**InfiniteSplatter, **__**if you send me your one shot, I will gladly include it.**_

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Jack felt bad for Pitch. A little. After all, he knew what it was like to have nobody believe in you. To be little more than a shadow of a person, popping up here and there in chintzy songs and cut-rate movies, and then only as a made up character to fit the story. Jack understood, and he didn't wish that on anyone. Not even a grade-A jackass like Pitch Black.

So he was extending…well, not an olive branch, really. More like an olive. They would always be enemies, but maybe they could be a bit friendlier about it. Commiserate when things got to be too much. Maybe they could be almost frienemies. After all, Jack was going out of his way to let Pitch know that he didn't absolutely abhor him. And he was bringing donuts. Donuts made everything go smoother.

Of course, Jack never expected to get through this unscathed. He figured Pitch would be muttering darkly, or plotting his revenge, or frantically scribbling over the lights on his own skeletal globe with a Sharpie, and such important acts of villainy really shouldn't be interrupted. He'd almost be certain to get blasted at with nightmare sand and half to throw a few ice attacks back in self-defense, but then they'd eat donuts and talk and part ways as slightly-less-bitter enemies.

If only he'd known. Nothing could have prepared him for the horrible torture waiting for him.

It had been going fine. Pitch's lair was dark and dismal, as per usual, and a few scraggly nightmares leered at him from the shadows as he walked through, second only to the bright pink box in terms of not belonging. He was rounding a corner, about to call out, when he stopped short, his blood running cold – which was something he hadn't thought could happen.

His eyes shrieked in pain at the sight of Pitch in a spangly white outfit, dancing badly to "Shake Your Groove Thing", disco ball and all. In three hundred years, Jack had never once wondered exactly why Pitch was called the Boogeyman. Now, he realized there was probably a good reason for that. Not that it mattered now; the image was forever burned into his brain. Dropping the box of donuts, he fled from the underground lair as fast as the wind would carry him, not stopping until he was safe at the Pole.

North and the others never did figure out why, but for three days, Jack Frost sat on top of the globe, knees tucked to his chest and eyes staring blankly past everything, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself. And he never looked at another donut.


	4. Something to Say

Sandy could feel the darkness creeping through him, choking out all that was good and bright; all that he was. For a moment he was afraid, but he quashed it down, gathering his thoughts. He focused on all the minds he had ever touched, sorting through them until the one he wanted came to the front. Jamie Bennett. The boy who had seen him mere moments ago. The boy who believed more fiercely than most. The boy whose light would be hardest to extinguish. Sandy would plant himself there.

He closed his eyes, letting the nightmare sand claim his body. When he opened them again, he was in the wide, convoluted expanse of Subconscious. He sighed, settling into a dream sand chair with a dream sand book. He could not give dreams from here, but he could remind the children that good dreams existed. That it wasn't always nothing but nightmares. After all, Subconscious connected to everyone. As long as Jamie believed, he would continue to exist here. And maybe enough memories would accumulate for him to build a door.

Time was different in Subconscious. It could have been moments or it could have been years, but Sandy suddenly realized that it was becoming unstable. Or rather, that it was beginning to reject his presence. That could only mean that Jamie was losing faith. If the boy stopped believing, Sandy would be truly lost. Tooth, North, and Bunny would disappear as well. Jack would be left to face Pitch alone. Or join him.

A long time ago, Sandy had sworn to silence. His voice was loud, extremely loud. Even his thoughts made noise. And he was the giver of dreams. Dreams required sleep. And so, he had decided that he would never speak so that he would never wake anyone up. But nobody slept in Subconscious. Subconscious was always awake and alert, working and thinking. There were no sleepers to rouse. So, as his anchor shook itself free, Sandy closed his dream sand book, looking around the rattling non-scape. He took a deep breath. He checked to see if there were enough good memories for his door; there wasn't.

Then, Sandy stood, dusting off his dream sand robes. "Well, damn," he said calmly, his loud voice echoing to the corners of Subconscious. Smirking a bit, the golden little man returned to his conjured chair and reopened his book, waiting patiently to see how his fate would unfurl.


	5. A Small Price

_**A/N: Okay, last drabble didn't get a very good reception. I understand; it sort of just tumbled right out of my brain and onto the page. All messy and junk. Hopefully this one will be better. Also, I have a challenge up on my profile if anyone's interested.**_

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"Right lateral incisor, knocked out defending the goal in a championship junior hockey match." Tooth examined the chipped, broken mess – part of a set – and handed it over to one of her fairies who flew off to put it in its canister. "Well, that wraps up Bunny's bag." Heaving a weary sigh, she looked over at the three large sacks that remained. There were so many teeth, and she was going to have to read the memories of each one to find out where they all belonged. She should have punched Pitch harder. _Oh well_, she thought, tugging North's bag over. It was a small price to pay to be believed in.


End file.
